Monster
by UtterlyEnthralling
Summary: Because she was never supposed to exist in the first place. Renesmee-centric. Dark themes. Oneshot.


**Monster**

**Summary:** Because she was never supposed to exist in the first place. [Renesmee-centric]

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Series nor any of the characters._

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><p>The very moment Renesmee is born, she is horrified at the knowledge that something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.<p>

"Let me… Give her to me."

As Renesmee is settled into her mother's arms, she does not cry, but instead breathes in quick startled pants. Her eyes are wide and staring; she is shocked. Despite the fact that her mother looks exhausted and haggard – a generous understatement – something in her eyes lets Renesmee know that she could almost laugh at her expression.

"Renesmee," her mother whispers. "So… beautiful."

Renesmee smiled then – a wide, deliberate smile, and leaned her head down, burrowing against her mother's warmth. She revels in the blessed normalcy of the moment, and believes that perhaps, everything will be alright.

All too soon, Renesmee is whisked from the room. She is washed and swaddled in blankets, brought to the living room, nestled in the arms of a woman who is not her mother. The panic that had been a mere shadow in that moment of normalcy rushes back full force.

The woman - _Aunt Rosalie_ - soothes her with quiet murmurs of reassurance and gentle, measured strokes of the downy hair on her head. Despite everything: the coddling of her aunt, the aesthetic peace in her new surroundings, and the warm fire burning brightly in the hearth, Renesmee is all too aware of the inner turmoil that causes her heart to constrict painfully every time she draws breath.

[-]

The house is quieter, the panicked commotion upstairs has ceased, but the relative silence fills Renesmee with a sharper sense of dread.

_What is happening to her mother…?_

Her family members have all met her; Grandpa Carlisle, Grandma Esme, Uncle Emmett, Auntie Alice, Uncle Jasper, and, each absolutely adore her. Their interactions with her contain a muted reverence; they view her as something wondrous.

Jacob, her Jacob, monopolizes her, but she does not mind, she delights in spending time with him.

When Edward finally meets her, he takes to her the same way that everyone else had: lifting her into his arms, marveling at her as though she's the most wonderful thing he's ever seen.

Renesmee smiles at her father and deliberately lifts her hand to his cheek, silently posing the question: _What is happening to mommy?_

Edward's split-second wince tells her everything. He recovers quickly, and holds her closer. Gracing her with a smile, he whispers that Bella will be able to see her soon.

She smiles back, in her childish innocence. On the inside however, for one ugly moment, she hates herself.

_Why why why… _She wonders._ Why has her existence caused her father such pain, and forced her mother to suffer a fate worse than death?_

[-]

They're attempting to feed her baby formula. Again.

Renesmee lets them have their way. She idly wonders whether or not the formula – as it's been so kindly coined – would taste any better this time than all the other times before that they tried to coax that stuff down her throat.

.

No. No, it doesn't taste any better than the last ten times they tried to feed her.

Renesmee let out a high ringing wail, quickly losing her patience with the formula. _Don't they know it smells disgusting, and tastes even worse?_

She doesn't want it. She craves something richer and infinitely more nourishing, something claret red.

Renesmee doesn't understand why they feed her baby formula when blood is such a fulfilling source of nourishment, so easily obtained, too. They all drink it, she knows.

_Why is she so different?_

[-]

The first time she hunts, it's exhilarating. The colours of the forest blurring together as she rushes by, pursuing her prey. She races with Jacob to see who could catch the animal first, and he always lets her win.

The rich liquid slides easily down her throat, a sliver of it falling from the corner of her mouth. She wipes it away with the back of her hand. She starts to lower her arm, but the flash of colour catches her eye. _Crimson on pale alabaster is such a pretty colour_, she muses.

[-]

Sometimes, Renesmee's thoughts stray to humans. They smell so mouthwatering, she wonders if their blood would taste any better than a deer's or a bear's. For one sickening moment, she realizes that this thought is monstrous.

_But then again, she is a monster, is she not?_

_._

She thinks of her family. _A family of monsters. How quaint._ They adore her, but it has not always been so.

She is no fool, she knows her father hated her, wanted her gone before she was even born because she was putting her mother's life in jeopardy by merely existing. Auntie Alice didn't want her for the same reason and Uncle Jasper had sided with her, while Auntie Rosalie and Grandma Esme had sided with her mother.

Her father had hated her, but he would never admit that to her now, not when her mother is happy, living as a glorious immortal, everyone is One Big Happy Family, and everything is just so perfect and _speshul_.

She does her best to ignore the lump in her throat and the sting of tears pricking at her eyes.

Out of all her family members, Renesmee feels that she understands her golden haired aunt on a soul level. After all, she never asked for this existence. She never wanted to be a monster.

A tiny bitter smile blossoms on her lips.

_She was never supposed to exist in the first place._

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>My, this is kinda dark. Hm, in hindsight I realize some may think that I'm bashing the books, but that's really not my intention. Despite the unfortunate implications that are so blatantly present within the series as a whole, I still do like the books. Not superhardcorecrazyfangirl kind of OMFGILOVEIT!11! But I do like them, mostly because of the series has inspired the creation of some really amazing and eloquent fanfics. I suppose I've been feeling quite upset these past few days, and my emotion just lent itself to this little piece of writing. Reading over this, I think I'd subconsciously drawn inspiration from Estora's absolutely amazing fics: "Seven" and "Eighteen," in that Renesmee is seen through a different perspective.


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